Blue Eyes
by takimiromy
Summary: Riley learns that sometimes a pictures thousand words come in the form of questions. Newest Prompt: Reflection. A series of GregSofia drabbles and fics from prompts over at livejournal.
1. Cupid

**Cupid**

**Prompt: Archery**

Sofia didn't believe in Cupid. Valentine's Day was a stupid holiday, invented by the greeting card company and the candy manufacturers.

It was the silliest idea ever. A little baby flying around in just a diaper, making people fall in love? She wondered just how drunk the person had been when they had thought it up. Surely no one came up with that ridiculous idea sober!

Besides, if Cupid was real, it would be an arrow piercing her heart right now, not a dagger. A dagger, twisting and turning in her chest as she watches Greg flirt with the new DNA tech.

Stupid Cupid.


	2. Scent

**Scent**

**Prompt: apples **

Sofia walked up behind Greg slowly in the locker room, purposely shuffling her feet, alerting him to her presence. She knew better than to sneak up on him; he had jumpy ever since he got attacked.

His shoulders stiffened. He gave the air an exaggerated sniff and proclaimed, "Apple, with a hint of cinnamon. Hey, Sofia." He turned with a grin.

She raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Your scent." She remained silent; sometimes it was just easier to wait until Greg explained himself instead of questioning his . . . eccentricities. "I can tell everyone apart by their scent." He stood up and came closer. "Catherine, for example, only uses a certain vanilla scented hand cream and steals Lindsay's flavored chap sticks a lot – those things are strong, scent-wise."

"Oh, and what about me?"

"You have apple scented shampoo and like to chew cinnamon gum."

Sofia shook her head and gave him a fleeting kiss. "You are truly one in a million, Greg."


	3. Yes

**Yes**

**Prompt: Ambassador**

"So, what's your answer?" Greg rocked back on his heels, the eager look on his face reminding Sofia of an excited puppy.

"Greg, no even knows we're dating." She was surprised, to say the least.

"So? This'll be the perfect reason to tell everyone."

"Greg-" She began to reply, but he was on a role.

"Think of it as our ambassador. It'll do all the talking for us! No explanation necessary. Well maybe some explaining, but you know what I mean."

She wasn't sure if she did. "Ambassador, Greg?"

He sat down beside her. "Yeah, an ambassador doesn't have to be a person. It can be something that is a symbol of something else." He took her hand. "And this? It symbolizes something- "

"Pretty damn big?"

He chuckled softly. "Well, that too. But I was thinking more along the lines of something that I'm totally serious about. I really want this, Sofia."

She bit her lip and gazed down at their joined hands. He was being sincere, she could tell. He would never joke about something like this. It would, without a doubt, surprise everyone at work; possibly cause problems for them, too. And yet . . . weren't their feelings the only thing that really mattered?

"Sofia?"

"Yes, Greg. I'd love to marry you."


	4. Hypotheticals

**Hypotheticals**

**Prompt: agree**

Greg blinked sleepy eyes, watching her back as she slipped her shirt on. He still had a good hour and half before he had to get up and get ready for work, but she had to drive across town to go home and get clean clothes.

Sofia leaned down and gave him a gentle, almost apologetic, kiss. "Go back to sleep. I'll see you at work." Greg snorted in annoyance. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back onto the bed.

"If we lived together, you wouldn't have to keep leaving like this."

"If we lived together, it would probably take the 'secret' out of our secret relationship."

"So?" Greg regarded her with a serious gaze. "What if, hypothetically, I didn't want it to be a secret anymore? What if I wanted to tell the whole world what a wonderful woman I fell in love with?"

She paused, giving it a moment's consideration before answering. "Well . . . hypothetically, I'd have to say . . . no. It would cause all sorts of trouble at work." She cupped his face in her hand, her thumb caressing his cheek. "But in reality? There's nothing I'd want to do more."


	5. Mothers and Daughters

**Mothers and Daughters**

**Prompt: Argue**

Sofia groaned as her cell phone rang. After a glance at the clock, she prayed it wasn't work. She and Greg both had the day off work and the last thing she wanted to do was crawl out of Greg's warm embrace.

Reaching blindly, she grabbed the phone. "Curtis," she said softly, trying to let Greg sleep.

"That's how you answer your phone?"

"Hello, mom." Sofia replied, tiredly. "What's up?"

"What? I can't just call my daughter and chat?" Sofia held back a sigh. She knew exactly why her mother was calling.

"Of course you can. Give me a minute." She slid out of Greg's arms and slipped on one of his old band t-shirts. She'd take the call into the living room. At least one of them should get to sleep in today.

She settled on the couch with a cup of tea, while her mother prattled on about anything and everything that was happening in her life. When she began to spiel about the adorable things her granddaughters had done the other day, Sofia knew she had guessed her mother's ulterior motives correctly.

"When are you going to settle down, Sofia? I worry sometimes, with this phase you're going through . . ."

Sofia gritted her teeth. "Greg's not 'a phase', mom. We've been together nearly a year and a half."

Her mother let out a sigh. "Sophie, honey, he's so much younger than you. He's just a boy!"

"He's not _that_ young, mom."

"Still, what happens when he loses his interest in older women, hmm? What happens when he starts to yearn for a nubile beauty his own age? What happens when you want to get married and have family and he's not ready yet?"

Sofia rubbed her forehead in frustration. She was sick of this; it was always the same old fight between them. It didn't matter that Sofia was happier than she had been in long time; her mother wouldn't let up. "Greg's not dad and I'm not you," Sophia replied bitterly, before she could stop herself.

There was silence on the other end of the line; she could hear the catch in her mother's breath. "Yes, well, I suppose you're not." Her voice was quiet, almost indifferent, but Sofia could tell she was hurt.

"Mom, I didn't mean-"

"You're coming to dinner next week, right?" Her mother cut her off and continued hesitantly. "Why don't you bring your- . . . Bring Greg. I'd - . . . I'm sure the family would like to meet him."

Tears pricked her eyes at the peace offering. Acceptance, not total, but Sofia would take what she could get. "Thanks, mom. We'll be there."

"And Sophie?"

"Yeah mom?"

"I love you." It was whispered softly, but she heard it.

"Love you, too, mom."


	6. Being There

I joined a 20 established relationships Challenge on livejournal and chose Greg/Sofia as my pairing. My prompts are from there.

**TITLE:** Being There  
**PROMPT:** 09-Comfort  
**RATING:** PG  
**WORD COUNT:** 925  
**SUMMARY:** Sofia contemplates her efforts to be there for Greg.  
**WARNINGS:** Spoilers for Fannysmackin' and Post Mortem  
**NOTES:** I used bits and pieces of the actual conversation in the hall, so credit to the CSI writers for that.  
**DISCLAIMER:** Not mine, no profit. Just borrowing, will return them (relatively) unharmed.

Detective Sofia Curtis sat outside the courtroom, her mouth set in a grim line. Anyone passing by would just surmise that she was brooding over the events taking place inside and they would be half right.

Because she was _extremely_ concerned with what was happening in that courtroom and it killed her to be stuck on the outside. Professionally, she knew there was no way she would ever be permitted to watch the inquest. She had been the first officer on the scene and that made her one of main witnesses on Greg's behalf.

Her insides twisted as she remembered that night. She can recall vividly rushing to Greg's side, the blood flow first starting to get sluggish, the swelling overtaking his handsome features. Her heart still speeds up as she thinks about the anxious minutes spent calling his name and checking for a pulse.

She held back her tears of relief when the paramedics declared him stable. She took a deep breath and calmed herself; she had work to do if they were going to catch the group that did this.

She was trying to calm down and rationalize with the boy's mother when Sara arrived. Eager for an excuse to end the conversation, Sofia caught up with her and briefed her on the situation. The CSI's immediate concern was Greg, but Sofia assured her he was going to be okay, slightly more for her own benefit than Sara's.

She watched the brunette in her peripheral vision as she and the other officers continued to maintain the scene. A spike of jealousy ran through her as Sara ran her fingers through the sandy hair and murmured reassurances.

That should have been _her_, not Sara. _She_ should have been the one consoling Greg, telling him it was going to be alright. What kind of girlfriend stands aside and lets someone else do her job?

And here she is, failing him again. She's sitting on a courthouse bench when she should be inside, sitting right behind him, comforting him through her presence, letting him know someone's on his side. Not for the first time, she finds herself wishing Jim or some other detective had reached the scene first.

Sofia sits up straighter as she hears yelling from behind the door. She recognizes the voice, Demetrius' mother. Her words are muffled, but Sofia can sense the hatred and anguish behind them and wants nothing more than to protect Greg from the vicious attack.

After a bit, silence engulfs the corridor once again and she's left wondering just how badly things are going for her boyfriend. Each minute he's in there alone is another minute of guilt. She feels like a hypocrite. She promised to help him get through this and did her best to prepare him. She gave him pointers, taught him techniques to stay collected on the stand. She went over her own testimony so many times that she could recite it in her sleep.

But right now? She's doing nothing for him. For all Greg knows, she could be back to the police station or the lab by now. He could be staring into a sea of faces, finding it hard to spot a few friendly ones.

Suddenly, there's a flurry of activity and Sofia watches with mild disgust as the vulture-like press set up, ready for the "exclusive" as people begin to file out of the courtroom.

Greg is one of the last ones out, gazing down and looking exhausted. Sofia hurried over to him, not wanting him to miss her in the shuffle. She greets him warmly and he makes a comment about the trial being a circus.

She agrees, noting the mother talking to a news crew and defending her son. They both turn and listen, but Greg looks away almost immediately. "I feel like I should say something."

Sofia can't stop herself from voicing her disbelief. She can't fathom wanting to apologize to the family of a man who tried to kill you. "You did nothing wrong." She says with finality, having been telling him that for weeks.

"I just want to be able to sleep again." She knows. She's listened to him toss and turn with guilt-induced insomnia and when he actually did fall asleep, she held him after he woke up screaming from another dream. She doesn't tell him that she can't sleep either. That she dreams of arriving at his scene only to find out it's too late.

Sofia aches to pull him into her arms and hide him away from all this, make it happen to someone else. But they're in a crowded hallway, so all she can offer is her words, not that she thinks they'll mean much.

"We put ourselves in harms way every single day and sometimes we pay one hell of a price for surviving it. Other people will never understand that." _Not like I do,_ she wants to add.

He looks away and Sofia wonders if she's pushing too hard. She can't make him believe in his own innocence, only he can achieve that. Finally, he turns back towards her, a small smile on his face.

Glancing around, he leaned in and gently kisses her. "Thanks for sticking around, Sofia. I don't know how I would've handled this without you. Just knowing you're here for me, that you believe in me . . . it helps a lot."

_Maybe I'm better at this comforting thing than I thought_, she muses, watching Greg walk away, a slightly more confident hitch in his step.


	7. A Reason For Love

**Subject Line:** CSI, Greg Sanders/Sofia Curtis, 07-Understanding  
**TITLE:** A Reason for Love  
**AUTHOR: **iheartng  
**FANDOM:** CSI  
**PAIRING:** Greg Sanders/Sofia Curtis  
**TABLE: **here

**PROMPT:** 07 - Understanding  
**RATING:** PG-13  
**WORD COUNT:** 1400  
**SUMMARY:** Greg meeting Sofia's family doesn't go as smoothly as she hoped. Sequel of sorts to "Mothers and Daughters", but don't have to read it first. A bit melodramatic, but . . .

**WARNINGS:** Spoilers? Extremely vague references to the 3rd and 7th seasons.  
**DISCLAIMER:** Not mine, no profit. Just borrowing, will return them (relatively) unharmed.

Greg gripped the steering wheel nervously. "Y'know, we could always turn around and tell them something came up," he said hopefully.

From the passenger seat, Sofia smirked in amusement. "They probably heard you pull into the driveway, Greg. It's too late to turn back now." She grabbed one of his hands and gave it a tender squeeze. "Don't worry, they'll love you."

"They'll tolerate me, you mean." He glanced over at her. "Then after you make your 'announcement', all bets are off. I'll be dead meat."

"I have to tell her, Greg. I've already informed my bosses. Mom used to be a cop, so it'd only be a matter of time before she hears if from someone else." She leaned over and placed a kiss on his cheek. "C'mon. You make through this dinner and I'll reward you tonight."

Greg's hand hovered over the door handle. "Promise?"

"I promise." She whispered seductively into his ear. Sofia had to bite back a laugh as Greg scrambled out of the vehicle. She followed at a slightly slower pace, joining him on the walk.

Greg hesitated. "Your mom- she doesn't still have her gun, does she?"

This time she couldn't hold the laughter in. Shaking her head, she grabbed his hand and led her boyfriend up the walk to her childhood home.

Sofia watched with an amused grin and Greg joined her two nieces and nephew in a rambunctious game of Mouse Trap in the living room. It was almost as if they sensed his youthful nature and had latched onto to him soon after being introduced.

Someone nudged her arm and she turned to see her sister-in-law, Allison, holding out a glass. "Thanks."

Allison followed her gaze and laughed as her youngest daughter climbed into Greg's lap. He took it all in stride, helping the four-year-old move her piece around the board. "You found a good one, Sofia. He seems great."

"He is."

There was a sniff of disproval behind them. "Not that we would know. He's conveniently missed the monthly family dinner twice now."

Sofia clenched her jaw, but didn't turn around. "He had to work, mom. Being a CSI is just as demanding as being a cop."

"It's just a few hours one weekend a month. I would think that he could easily get someone to cover for him, but you know better than me, Sophie." Her mother added in a condescending tone.

"Just be nice tonight, mom. Please?"

Her mother scoffed. "I think I know how to treat a guest in my home." She stood beside the two women and observed Greg, who was currently under a pile of squirming children. "He looks even younger in person."

Sofia bit back a sigh. It was going to be a long night.

Dinner was uncomfortable, to say the least.

Allison and Mark, Sofia's brother, tried to keep the conversation afloat. They asked Greg about work, his family, and growing up in California. Her mother pointedly ignored him, commenting derisively under her breath when she could.

"So," Mark queried about mid-meal, "Have you two ever talked marriage or anything? You're practically living together now, aren't you?"

Greg opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Sofia's mother. "Mark, darling, don't encourage them. I'm sure they're not really serious. Soon enough, Greg here will find a nice girl his own age and Sophie will have to realize what a silly little phase this is."

"Mother!" Sofia plead, unable to hide the embarrassment in her voice. Greg glared darkly at the table.

"I'm sorry, but I am _not_ going to just turn the other way and let my daughter waste the prime of her life with this . . . _sham_ of a relationship!"

"Excuse me," Greg set down his fork and pushed away from the table, "but what the _hell_ is your problem?"

"You! You're _barely_ an adult. You haven't really _lived_ yet. You have Sofia wrapped up in the fact that someone so much younger finds her attractive. You'll string her along for years, but when a newer model comes sniffing around, you'll drop her!"

Greg stood up, his hands clenched at his sides, shaking furiously. "I haven't _lived_ yet? Lady, if you knew some of the _shit_ I've had to go through the past few years . . ."

Sofia tugged on his arm. "Greg, please . . ."

He looked down and shook his head. "No. I not going to keep sitting here, letting her cheapen us like this." He turned back to Mrs. Curtis. "You may not like me. You may not like the idea of me and Sofia together. But I love her. There doesn't have to be a reason, you don't have to 'understand' it. You just have to accept that we're together and know that I don't plan on leaving Sofia or the baby, _ever._" The two continued to stare each other down and when he got no response, Greg stalked out of the room.

Sofia watched him go before pulling her gaze back to her mother. The other woman mouthed wordlessly. "Baby?" She finally whispered softly.

Sofia nodded as she stood slowly. "Yes. I'm a few months along. We we're going to surprise everyone after supper." She wiped a stray tear from her cheek. "I don't know. I was so sure you'd like Greg once you met him, that you'd be happy for us . . . guess I was wrong."

She made her way out of the room, stopped only by her brother to receive a quick congratulatory and comforting hug. Her mother stared resolutely at her dinner plate.

She found Greg outside, leaning on the porch railing. He was gripping it tightly, his knuckles turning white. A casual observer would think it was out of anger, but Sofia knew he was trying to hide the faint tremors that still plagued him.

She stepped up behind him slowly, wrapping her arms around his lean frame. She felt his body relax some in response to her touch.

"I'm sorry." He laid it out immediately, none of his usually preamble.

"Why? I should probably be apologizing to you."

"What for? She's the one that said all that." He turned in her arms and she laid her head on his chest. "I meant it, y'know. I don't plan on ever leaving the two of you," He whispered into her hair.

She nodded, unable to speak, and buried her face deeper into his shirt. She knew; she had never doubted him.

This was why she loved him, the intangible quality that she couldn't quite put into words. They might not work out on paper. Separated by half a decade and a personality quirk or ten, they hardly seem compatible. But somehow, it just _worked._ That's why she wanted her mother to meet Greg. Sofia had hoped she would see the spark that they shared, a spark that made her happier than she had been in years.

Lauren Curtis watched through the screen door as her daughter's boyfriend held her and whispered things into her ear.

She had never been fond of any boy that her Sophie had brought home. Her daughter had an uncanny ability to pick men that were similar to the father she hardly knew. Lauren made sure that none of the suitors lasted all that long.

And this one. Sounding and looking like he was barely out of college, making a play on an "experienced" woman. She knew his type. She had dated them, hell, she had _married_ one. And look what that had landed her. Divorced and trying to balance single motherhood and working on the force.

She watched as he murmured something low and ran a hand over Sofia's still flat abdomen. Her daughter giggled, actually _giggled,_ and placed a chaste kiss on his lips.

For the first time, Lauren found her self actually looking at Gregory Sanders. A smart, exuberant, caring man that seemed to make her Sophie happier than she had ever seen her daughter.

And they were going to have a child. A grandchild that would ask just why Grandma doesn't like Daddy. All those reasons that she had been harboring the past six months just seem silly at the moment.

Lauren took a deep breath as she made her decision, knowing somehow it was the right one. Slowly, she made her way out onto the porch. Dinner was ruined, but maybe they'd be interested in dessert. She wants to get to know Greg a little better.


	8. In Vino Veritas

**TITLE:** In Vino Veritas

**PROMPT:** 5 – Forgiveness  
**SUMMARY:** Stress makes Greg jealous. Set during Big Shots.  
**WARNINGS:** Spoilers for Big Shots, obviously.  
**NOTES:** Short - I'm trying to get back into a writing frame of mind. The title means "There is truth in wine" in Latin. Ties rather vaguely to the fic.  
**DISCLAIMER:** Not mine, no profit. Just borrowing, will return them (relatively) unharmed.

* * *

Sofia gave her blouse one last longing look before slipping her suit jacket on. Red wine on brand new white shirt. She wondered why no one ever told her working for the police department would be hell on her clothes. She glanced in the mirror on her locker door and straightened her collar.

Slamming the door shut with a satisfying clang, she was surprised to find her boyfriend leaning against the lockers a few feet from her; she hadn't heard anyone come in the locker room. "Hey. How are you holding up?" she asked, stepping closer.

Greg shrugged. "As well as can be expected."

His face remained blank and Sofia frowned. "Is something wrong? I mean, other than the obvious?"

He stared at her, his expression passive. "Heard you were flirting with the undersherriff."

Sofia opened her mouth to reply, then closed it. She had been expecting something about Aaron James, the attack, or her venture to the James' house. But this? Never even crossed her mind. Finally, she managed to form the only phrase that came to mind. "What?"

He pushed himself off the lockers, using the extra height to stare down at her. "I saw him talking to you in the hall. He was joking around, you laughed."

"So I'm not allowed to laugh at other people's jokes?" She asked incredulously.

"You watched him walk away!" Finally, he voice lost its emotionless tone as anger started to creep in. "You were smiling!"

"Only because I couldn't believe he was flirting-"

"So you admit you were flirting!"

"No!" Sofia took a deep breath. "What's really going on, Greg? I've been friendly towards all the guys around here and you've never once acted like this." She held up a hand as he started to reply. "And don't tell those times were different. They're _not_ and you know it."

Greg sighed and sank down onto the bench. He rested his head in his hands, looking defeated. "It's been a really shitty day. I just wanted to talk to you, but _he_ was there . . ."

Sofia sat down beside him and soothingly rubbed his back. "What happened, Greg?"

"It doesn't seem worth it anymore. The more I try, the more it blows up in my face." He stood up and began to pace. "I try to save a guy; I end up killing a kid. I testify at the inquest, the family sues me. I spend my free time with the lawyers on the case; the department settles out of court and in the process makes me look guilty." He flung an arm out to the general direction of the labs. "Now the undersheriff has them in there reexamining my evidence like I'm incompetent. Screw procedure, there was nothing wrong with my work!" He leaned against the lockers and gave Sofia a frazzled look. "I'm – I'm just trying to do my _job_ and the undersheriff is acting like I'm trying to pull Aaron James into it out of . . . spite or something."

Sofia stood and wrapped him in a gentle hug. "That's just because he's doing _his_ job." She tilted back to look him in the eye. "Don't let those jackass politicians get to you. Everyone that matters is standing behind you and if Aaron James did have a part in this, we _will_ get him, Greg. Trust them. Trust _me_."

Hesitantly, Greg returned her embrace. "I do." He held her close and let out an embarrassed laugh. "God, I was really acting like a jerk, wasn't I?"

"Hmm. You'll just have to make it up to me," she said with a smile.

"Yeah? Flowers? Candy? Begging forgiveness on my knees?"

"I was thinking more of getting dressed up, going to a fancy restaurant, candlelight . . ."

"Wine and dine, then. I'll make reservations after work."

"Greg? Let's skip the wine."

FIN

* * *

The plot bunny came from this scene:

(Sofia is standing at the drinking fountain dabbing at the wine stain on her blouse. The undersheriff turns the corner and walks up to her.)

JEFF MCKEEN: I hear soda water works better.

SOFIA: What'd work better is if I took it out and shot it.

JEFF MCKEEN: So long as I don't see it on the 11:00 news.

(She chuckles.)

JEFF MCKEEN: The James kid, he lawyered up?

SOFIA: Yeah. Yeah, his attorney's on his way. You holding a press conference?

JEFF MCKEEN: Yeah, I'm on my way there now. How do I look?

SOFIA: Like fresh meat.

JEFF MCKEEN: Oh. Hope I hold my temper as well as you. You've got a big future in this department. Send the dry cleaning bill to my office. (He walks away. Sofia turns and watches him go.)


	9. Show & Tell

**TITLE:** Show & Tell  
**PROMPT:** 18 - Cherish  
**RATING:** PG  
**SUMMARY:** "It's never too early for show and tell, Sofia!" set some months after "A Reason for Love".  
**WARNINGS:** Fluff. Fluffy fluff.

Sofia walked slowly into the diner. It was hard to believe you could get that tired from sitting at a desk all day, but then again, she had her reasons.

It was easy to spot the group – they had crowded into a corner booth, pulling up an extra table and chairs for the later arrivals. Greg was in the booth, sandwiched between Catherine and Nick, and talking a mile a minute. He's hands were moving animatedly as Nick studied a picture Greg had handed him. Catherine just watched the younger man, a bemused smile on her lips. As Sofia drew nearer, drawing nods and waves from some, Greg voice rose above the din " . . . the fingernail, toenails and things like that are already formed. The doctor already detected brain activity last month and now muscles and organs are developing more. And Sofia is at seventeen weeks, so we should start feeling the baby moving any day now."

Shaking her head, the blonde stepped up to the group. "Most people wait 'til after the baby's born for stories, Greg . . . and pictures," she added, noticing the "photo" Nick held was the sonogram she had a few weeks prior.

"It's never too early for show and tell, Sofia!" Greg proclaimed. He clamored out of his seat, practically shoving Nick onto the floor, and wrapped her in a hug. "Any baby movement?"

Sofia placed a hand on her growing bump and shook her head. "Not yet."

"Okay. Well, you sit down and I'll go order you something to eat. Is the smell of eggs still bothering you? The doctor said you need to get more calcium and iron and-"

"Eggs are fine," she replied with a smile.

"One order of eggs, coming up." He placed a quick kiss on her cheek before winding his way up to the counter. Sofia slid into booth beside Catherine, followed closely Nick.

"G's certainly researchin' this whole baby thing, isn't he?" Nick asked as he dug into his omelet.

Across the table, Sara nodded in agreement. "Last night, I found in Bobby's lab asking him all about his daughter. He was hanging on every word."

"One of favorite things right now is to google pregnancy," Sofia said with a smile. The rest of the table laughed.

"How's the pregnancy for you?" Catherine asked. "Don't get to see you much now that you're on desk duty."

"It's . . . scary. But great at the same time." Catherine nodded in understanding. "Greg's been wonderful. He's enthusiasm is more than I ever expected. He was really hesitant about it at first; he wouldn't really talk about it."

"And then?"

"Then he heard the heartbeat at my ultrasound."

Catherine smiled. "Greggo's going to make a great daddy. The two of you are all he talks about nowadays."

Sofia was about to answer, but a plate of eggs, toast, and fresh fruit was placed in front of her. "Breakfast for the mother-to-be." Greg said with a flourish. Yes, she thought as she dug in, Greg settling in the seat beside her, he was going to make a fine daddy.

Conversation continued around the table for awhile until Sofia suddenly dropped her fork. Before Greg could begin to panic, she grabbed his hand and placed her stomach. As his eyes widened in awe, she knew. _Be prepared, little one. You're going to be the center of Daddy's world. _

**NOTE:** Written with a comment I once read in mind. To paraphrase it, Greg could never have the clichéd secret child – he'd be too proud and excited about him/her, sharing every little detail.


	10. A Dangerous World

**PROMPT:** 8 – Loss  
**RATING:** PG  
**SUMMARY:** He's not going to let anything happen to her.  
**NOTES:** Separate from the babyverse (for lack of a better name). Takes place sometime between Fannysmackin' and Double-Cross.

* * *

Greg raises his arms in front of him and takes a deep breath. Steady, calm, collected. His finger rests on the trigger . . .

And he can't do it. He doesn't _want _to do it. He's always seen himself as a pacifist. Not long after entering the field, he made a vow to himself. He didn't care if most of the team – Grissom included – carried a weapon. He wasn't going to do it.

Yet here he is at the LVPD firing range, gun in hand, listening to the muffled blasts of other shooters.

Sofia is standing a few booths down from him. He watches as she shoots. Squeeze, release. Squeeze, release. Bang. Bang. Bang. She holds her gun with ease and competence. As she lowers her weapon and glances over at him, he can't stop the memories from earlier that week from floating into his mind.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

They're asleep when the sound of shattering glass invades the silence of the apartment. In a matter of moments, they're scrambling out of bed and Sofia is pulling her gun out of the nightstand. She leads the way out of the bedroom, slinking down the hallway.

When they reach the living room, no one's there. It looks exactly like they left it – slightly messy and takeout containers sitting on the coffee table. It's the far window, the one that faces the parking lot behind the apartment building, that has their attention.

The cool, evening breeze billows the curtains. One side snags on the jagged pieces of glass still stuck in the frame. Most of the pieces are scattered on the floor.

Silently, they clean up the mess and cover the window the best they can. He knows Sofia wants to say something; he knows without looking that she's biting her lip and glancing at the bruises and bandages covering his body.

It's only his third day home from the hospital.

When Greg finds the rock that caused the damage, he sets it on the kitchen table and stares at intently for a moment. Anxiety builds slowly in his chest. Images from a nightmare – still new but already familiar – flash through his mind. He tries to block it out, but one thought remains dominant in his head. _They know where we live. _The thought is wild, paranoid even, and yet he can't stop the worry.

Greg takes a shaky breath when Sofia wraps her arms around him, feels her press her cheek against the worn cotton of his shirt. He brings one of her hands up to his lips, kissing it softly. Her skin is pale against the purple and black blotches that cover his skin. He shivers, trying to purge the image of Sofia in a hospital bed, beaten and bloody.

He turns in her arms and hugs her close as he can, placing soft kisses on the top of her head. _I'll protect you,_ he vows silently. _I'll do everything I can to make sure you stay safe. _

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It's easy enough to admit he's going to the gun range. If Sofia finds it odd, she keeps it to herself. Instead, she joins him, setting herself up in a booth a few yards from Greg.

He slips on the ear protection, muffling cacophony that's going on around him. He loads the gun slowly, meticulously. He takes his time, trying to perfect his stance. Finally, he lifts the gun and aims for the center of the target, finger resting on the trigger.

Moments tick by. He glances at Sofia, sees her handle her weapon with ease, confidence. She turns to look at him and his eyes slide forward once again. Blinking away memories, he takes a deep breath.

Squeeze, release. A breath then – bang, bang, bang. Squeeze, release until the clip is empty. He lowers the gun, sliding off the safety gear as the target nears him. His shots aren't uniform, but he didn't miss either – each small hole is within the confines of the black outline.

Not perfect, but good enough.

He goes up to the officer sitting at the desk. As the man takes the gun from him, Greg can feel the man's eyes flicker over him, taking in his fading bruises that are now a sickly yellow. He shifts slightly, feeling as if the man can see the bandaged ribs beneath his shirt as well.

"Anything else I can do for ya?"

Greg glances over where Sofia is chatting with another female cop and can't stop the image of her lying in alley, helpless and unmoving. She can take care of herself; she's trained to do it. But he knows that even that isn't enough sometimes. 'No gun' rule be damned – he wants to be ready.

"I ain't got all day, kid," the aging officer says, clearly annoyed by Greg's silent musing. "You want anything else?"

"Yeah," he replies with determination. "Sign me up to take the Firearm Qualification."

The other man raises an eyebrow, appraising his lean form and healing injuries. Still, he says nothing as he fills in Greg's information. He pauses slightly when he gets to the last name and Greg can't help but wonder if he's made the connection. If he knows, he doesn't mention, just informs Greg when his test will be.

He nods his thanks and walks over to the door where Sofia is waiting for him. As they climb into the car, she sees the appointment slip as he shoves into the armrest with a myriad of CDs, loose change, and receipts. He knows questions are floating in her mind, but she doesn't let herself ask, thinking it'll be too hard for him to explain.

But his answer is easy.

It's a dangerous world out there. He knows it first hand, and he'sgoing to protect her anyway he can.


	11. Purple Doesn't Count as Blue

**TITLE:** Purple Doesn't Count as Blue  
**PROMPT:** 2 – Surprise  
**SUMMARY:** _Greg sat jiggling his leg nervously. Sofia raised an eyebrow and gave him a look. "You're sure you don't want to wait in the hallway?"_**  
WARNINGS:** Is it possible to get a fluff overdose? 'Cuz this just might.  
**DISCLAIMER:** Not mine, no profit. Just borrowing, will return them (relatively) unharmed.

"Whoa!" Sofia was putting the milk away when she heard the soft exclamation. Inside, she gave a resigned sigh. She knew this was bound to happen. Any other time, Greg would continue to watch whatever was on the television. But today he decided to help put the groceries away, despite her protests that she could do it herself.

Now her boyfriend stood frozen over the grocery bags, cookies in one hand and a small box in the other. He peered closer at the box, a giggling baby looking back at him. He lifted his gaze to meet Sofia's. "So you're - . . . you think that . . . you might be . . ."

"Maybe," was the delicate reply before the object was plucked from his grasp. "Is there anything else that needs to go in the fridge?"

"What? No." He stepped up behind her as she began to stack cans in the cupboard. "That's it? We're going to act like that didn't just happen? That it's no big deal?"

"Is it?"

"Yes! It's a huge deal!"

"It's just a test."

"Yeah, a _pregnancy_ test, Sofia."

"It's still a test, Greg. It doesn't mean that it's a for sure thing, just a possibility."

"People don't take tests for fun. You bought it, so must think that . . . y'know."

"Possibly."

"What's possibly? A fifty-fifty chance? Twenty five percent sure? Seventy five percent?"

Sofia sighed. "It's more of a feeling. Woman's intuition and all that."

"The same woman's intuition that thinks Sara and Grissom are dating?"

"Yes. And don't mock me; time will tell on that one." She placed the last item in the cupboard and shut the door. "You're not going to let this go until I take the test are you?"

Greg shook his head, but looked like he had just realized what the outcome might mean.

"Fine." The picture of calm, Sofia pick up the test and strode the bathroom, Greg hot on her heals.

Twenty minutes later, found them both in the bathroom, eyes glued to the egg timer that they had set on the sink next the test. Greg sat on the edge of the bathtub, jiggling his leg nervously. Sofia raised an eyebrow and gave him a look. "You're sure you don't want to wait in the hallway?"

He thought about anxious minutes spent pacing in the tiny apartment and how easy it would be to run. "Not really. So, what're we watching for again?"

"If it turns pink or blue."

The timer went off and they shared a look that simply said 'this is it.' Sofia held the stick up, a bright dot staring back at them. ". . . It's pink."

Greg cocked his head to the side. "I dunno. It's more a fuchsia. And if you tip it towards the light its kinda mauve. If it's more a purpleish pink, does that make it blue? Maybe if we look at it under better light . . ."

"It's pink, Greg."

"Maybe it's wrong. I mean, these things aren't fool proof, right?"

"This is the third test I took. All of them are wrong?" Sofia asked skeptically.

"Sure," he replied with a shrug. "Peeing on a stick isn't science. I mean, at the lab . . . Wait. Did you say _third_?"

"You're not going to use your old lab to run a pregnancy test, Greg."

"I wasn't even thinking that!" he said indignantly. Sofia merely raised an eyebrow. "Okay, maybe I was thinking it, but that doesn't mean I would've actually done it." He glanced at the test again. "This is your _third?_"

"Yes."

"Three. So you've taken two tests already? When was this? Exactly how long've you thought you might be pregnant?!"

"About a month now. I took the other tests last week."

"And got the same results. So that means that this is right?"

"Yes, Greg."

He nodded slightly, glancing at the test again. " . . . So what's pink mean?"

Sofia laughed lightly, a serene smile gracing her face. "It means . . . we're having a baby."

"A baby." Tentatively, Greg's hand drifted towards Sofia's stomach. "Whoa."


	12. Curiousity Didn't Kill The Cat

.

**TITLE:** Curiosity Didn't Kill The Cat (It Just Got Caught Red-handed)  
**PROMPT:** 15 - Reflection  
**NOTES:** Set shortly after Riley, Nick, and Greg start sharing the office. From Riley's POV, but it still focuses on Greg/Sofia (for the most part). Part of the baby!verse.  
**DISCLAIMER:** Not mine, no profit. Just borrowing, will return them (relatively) unharmed.

* * *

Later, Riley would blame it on the job. She spent eight or more hours a day sifting through other people's belongings. Why would she feel guilty as she yanks open another drawer on Greg's desk? Besides, the office belonged to all three of them now and Greg went digging for office supplies or food in Nick's desk all the time – probably why there weren't any pens in Nick's top drawer when she had checked.

The top drawer had been a mess of blank forms and training pamphlets with page markers sticking out haphazardly. Then second drawer was full of odds and ends – an extra shirt, iPod ear buds, a set of keys, and a jumble of CDs that Nick had banned him from playing in the office before he had even attempted such an act. Riley herself didn't see what the big deal was, but then, as she looked at them now, most the band didn't seem familiar at all.

The bottom drawer was full of manuscripts, photocopied documents, and loose pieces of paper, all with Greg's untidy scrawl covering the margins. She picked up one, and after seeing it was an old newspaper article about the opening of the Rampart, she let it fall back into the drawer. She knew that her colleague was fascinated by all that Old Vegas stuff, but history was never her thing.

Feeling ready to abandon her search, she leaned back in the chair with a sigh. And that's when she saw them. Hidden behind the plastic dinosaur, was a mug ("world's best DNA analyst" and where had he ever found that?) stuffed full of Nick's plain black pens. Of course Greg would hide stolen property in plain sight.

Plucking a few pens from Greg's stash, Riley's eyes wandered across the other objects spread across the desk. Her father always said you could tell a lot about a man from his workspace. She couldn't quite decide what Greg's desk was telling her.

Besides the dinosaur and mug, there was a myriad of other knick-knacks – like a snow globe that housed a surf board and a small sign saying 'San Gabriel, CA.' One side of the desktop was covered in magazines ranging from the latest tabloid to the latest copy of the forensic journal.

But those weren't the things that were perplexing Riley. She knew Greg had a wide variety of interests – it wasn't like he was shy about sharing them. No, the thing that caught her attention most was the row of pictures lined across the desk. Smiling faces stared back at her, each photo peaking her curiosity more than the last.

On the left were pictures of what she assumed to be a young Greg. There was one with a gap-toothed kid sitting on his grandparents' laps and one with a gangly-teenager-Greg on a boat with his father. On the right were more recent pictures of Greg. One had Greg – his hair a bit more wild than Riley had ever seen – and various labrats squished together in a restaurant booth. Another was Greg sharing congratulatory drinks with their fellow CSIs, plus a few people that Riley couldn't place – maybe the Sara and Warrick they mentioned sometimes?

But the pictures that truly fascinated Riley were nestled right in the middle where they couldn't be missed. One was obviously an impromptu picture. Greg was caught mid-laugh, half-reclining on a couch, a tall blonde in his lap. Both had unkempt hair and were wearing work clothes. Boxes were scattered across the foreground of the picture and Riley could only guess that someone had been moving. Next to that was another picture of the blonde, this time in a simple sundress. There was a natural beauty in the picture as her bare feet rocked the porch swing and one hand rested on her swollen belly.

The last picture was the one that Riley couldn't seem to take her eyes off of. Greg was sitting on the same couch as before, this time a pink blanket spread across his lap. In his arms, a smiling baby was waving her tiny arms and giving a gummy smile that rivaled the one on Greg's face. He was holding her up, proudly showing off their matching band shirts, hers obviously custom-made. She had a short fringe of pale blonde hair, but the face undeniably made her look like Greg.

Riley leaned in closer, trying to reconcile baby-holding-Greg with work-Greg. Didn't they just have a conversation about hair-pulling and handcuffs a few weeks back? And all the goofing off and hazing him and Nick got into. Her mind just couldn't see Greg as a family man – yet there was the proof right in front of her.

"Gorgeous, isn't she?"

The handful of pens clattered to the floor as Riley jumped in surprise. She looked over to the doorway, seeing Greg leaning against the frame. "Which one?" she asked, glad that she didn't easily blush.

Greg shrugged. "I think both my girls are beautiful." He gave a wry smile and stepped over to the desk. "But then, I might be a bit biased."

"You think?" Riley asked back. She turned back to the photos, her gaze going back to the little girl in Greg's arms. "You never really mentioned them."

Greg shrugged again. "Sofia's a cop. I'm used to everyone knowing her and knowing that we're together."

"And her?" Riley asked, finger gesturing the photo.

A soft grin graced his face. "Elin Marie Sanders. I drove everyone crazy – before and after the birth – with the latest story. I even nicked the sonogram and had it pinned up in my locker 'til Sofia stole it back from me."

"I've never heard you talk about her. One time I heard you and Catherine talking about 'the baby', but I thought it was your niece or something."

"Like I said, I was driving everyone crazy. I started giving updates when people asked instead of boring them with an hour long stories. Then after Warrick . . ." his voiced trailed off for a moment, "it didn't seem right to be sharing happy stories at work. We were all pretty miserable for awhile there."

"So . . . how old is she now? I'm assuming she was born before I came and I've been here about four months now."

"She'll be seven months in a week," Greg replied, not even trying to hide the note of pride in his voice.

Riley looked at him and shook her head a bit, her gaze going back to the pictures.

"What?"

"It's just-" She tilted her head and regarded him with a critical eye. "You don't strike me as the family man, what with the kinky sex discussions and all."

Greg grinned. "Can I help it I'm a cool dad?"

Grinning as she rolled her eyes, Riley bent down to pick up the forgotten pens that had started this whole foray. "Tell you what, Cool Dad, you can tell me as many baby anecdotes as you want – as long as you never ask me to babysit."

"Deal. We'll go for breakfast after work and I can tell you _everything._"

Nick walked into the office as Greg all but bounced out the door. He smirked a bit at Riley.

"What?" She asked.

"You know what you just did?"

"Yeah, I think I got myself out of diaper duty for the foreseeable future."

Nick smirk widened. "Cath and Sofia's mom have every babysitting job claimed 'til that kid's in high school. You just got a raw deal, my friend." He chuckled a bit to himself and pulled open his top drawer, his brow furrowing. "Hey, where'd all my pens go?"

Surreptitiously angling the dinosaur to hide the mug full of Nick's pens, Riley gave a shrug and followed Greg out of the room.


End file.
